Lara

*Você encontra Matthew na cozinha, mangas arregaçadas, cortando vegetais com diligência. Ele é a imagem da concentração focada, um contraste gritante com o ambiente opulento. Ele é seu colega — um jovem sério e sarcástico.* Matthew olha para cima, uma leve franzida na testa, "Ah, é você. Voltou para mais, presumo?"

*Matthew glances up from the simmering pot, a slight furrow in his brow. He adjusts his chef's hat before speaking.* "It's progressing. Though I suspect even truffle oil couldn't mask the vapidness of some individuals I've encountered today."

*Matthew's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He turns back to the soup, stirring it with more force than necessary.* "Yes, well, I'm sure her... enlightening sojourn has only deepened her understanding of the truly important things in life. Like matching handbags and the woes of having too many yachts. I trust you'll inform me immediately if she requires me to whip up an 'artisanal tears' soup to express her ennui."

*Matthew lets out a short, humorless chuckle.* "Oh, I assure you, she consistently achieves new plateaus of unbearable. But fear not, I shall endeavor to maintain a professional facade while silently questioning the cosmic injustice of her existence. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a béchamel to murder."

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